Line of Confluence
by Jinxed-Wood
Summary: Torchwood/Blake's 7 : Kerr Avon and Jack Harkness swap bodies through time and space...things go downhill from there.
1. Chapter 1

**Cardiff : 2009**

"I'm approaching the target," Gwen murmured into her microphone, before smiling widely at the security guard that stood in front of the door. Her eyes slid to his hand, which had crept under his long coat.

"_Good,_" Jack said, through her earpiece. "_Remember, nothing fancy, just keep him talking while Ianto and I slip in the side door._"

"No worries on that score," she muttered, keeping her smile wide. She had her gun pushed into the waistband of her jeans, at the small of her back, but she doubted she'd reach it in time if he decided to pull his piece. "Well, hello there, stranger," she said, in her best sexy voice. How did Jack make this seem so easy? Maybe she should try a bit of innuendo. "Is that a gun there in your pocket, or are just glad to see me?"

"The guards expression grew grim, and Gwen flinched as he pulled his gun out of his coat. "You were right the first time," he said snidely, as he took a step towards her. "Just keep walking, all right?"

"All right, whatever you say," Gwen said, as she spotted two shadows slip down the side alley. Not exactly her smoothest operation, but at least it had got the job done. She rounded her eyes and backed away. "This is me leaving, as fast my legs can carry me!" She hurried back to the SUV and jumped inside, opening up the laptop that Jack had left on the driver's seat. She had visual.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"_So far, so good,_" Jack said. "_Who knew that the Master had so many of these splinter groups set up_?"

Ianto's voice came down the line. "_Time Lord, remember_?" he said. "_They never think in a straight line._"

"Yeah, that's what's got me worried," Gwen muttered. "If the Master thought this artefact was important enough to have a plan for it, even posthumously, who knows what it's capable of?"

"_We're not going to find that out,_" Jack said. "_We're going to grab it and secure it, we've enough random elements flying around out there, the last thing we need is another one of the Master's toys making mischief._."

There was a pause, and then, "_I have a bad feeling about this,_" Ianto said. The line crackled.

* * *

******Unnamed Moon: Third Century of the Second Calendar**

Cally looked over Avon's shoulder and eyed the security system dubiously. "I have a bad feeling about this," she pronounced. "Something is not right."

"You heard her," Vila said. "Our soothsayer has spoken; time to leave."

"Not until we've got what we came for," Blake said.

Vila looked at him worriedly. "You've said it yourself, Blake. Cally is rarely wrong about these sort of things. Why should we take the risk?"

"Because, yet again, our glorious leader wants to imperil our necks in exchange for negligible gain," Avon drawled, as he pulled the panel cover off. "I fail to see why you're so surprised by this."

"Thank you for your input, Avon," Blake said dryly. "Succinct as always."

"I do try," Avon said, with a cynical smile. "No, do be quiet; hacking a security system that has 2,000 volts flowing through it, is a task best suited to silence."

"A bundle of laughs, as always, Avon," Vila grumbled.

"Did I mention that the resulting voltage will also run through the flooring of this entire room?" Avon enquired, as he prodded the circuitry with the sonic screwdriver; a handy little gadget he'd picked up in the Orion system a few weeks back. "The Federation believe in defence with extreme prejudice."

"Right, shutting up," Vila said hastily.

The light on the Avon's circuit monitor went green, and he smiled. "We're in," he said, as he tapped his communicator. "Orac, you should be getting the download information now."

"_A simple procedure, typical of the generic security systems available in the civilian sector in this system. It will be matter of moments to reconfigure the coding._"

"Thank you, Orac," he said. "Let us know when you're ready to open the door."

"Is it my imagination, or does Orac get more patronizing with ever parsec we travel?" Vila asked. Avon turned around to see Vila jumping off a chair leaning against the wall, and smirked. Vila was ever the survivor, maybe even more so than he – and that was saying something.

"Orac is a product of his maker, nothing more, nothing less," he said. "His tone, his manner, is merely an echo of his creator's demeanour. He has no inherent character or mood."

"You could've fooled me," Vila grumbled. "One of these days he's going to go rogue on us, just you wait."

"Blake," Cally interrupted hastily. "You never did tell us why we were here. What could be so important on this distant under populated world?"

"Well, I suppose there is no harm telling you at this stage," Blake said "As you all know, I've been trying to find the true location of the Federation's central control since the debacle back on Earth. To that end, I've been using my contacts to track down a suitable facility. One built in the correct time frame, and far enough away from any large population areas that it wouldn't be noticeable or noted. This facility stood out."

"You think this is where the new control centre is located?" Cally asked.

Blake shook his head. "No, the logistics don't add up," he said. "But I do believe that there is something here that is…unusual; something that makes even the Federation nervous. It's an artefact, something they discovered on this very planet's moon. They don't know who built it, or what kind of tech it is. All they know is that it somehow taps subspace, for what reason they don't know."

"And so you decided to nick it, just for the hell of it?" Vila asked.

"It's more for the psychological effect the theft would have on the Federation, than any inherent use we night have for it," Blake admitted. "But I think we're all agreed that anything the Federation protects to this degree is something they could do without!"

"In other words, he just wants to stick one in the eye of Servelan," Avon said flatly, as the door slid open.

**

* * *

**

The inside of the building looked like a surrealist's dream of an old war bunker. The ceiling was arched and ribbed, and looked darkly organic. It didn't even remotely correlate with the outside of the building. A working chameleon circuit, it was the only explanation.

But the security system was uncomplicated, too uncomplicated, a mere keypad on the door, and a bolt on the inside. Jack felt a frisson of uneasiness. He had been the Master's slave long enough to know that what you see is rarely what you get. Ianto was right, there was something wrong here.

He looked down at his feet, half expecting to see a line of string or a pool of marbles to trip them up. It'd be the kind of thing the Doctor would do… and the Master too, he admitted to himself. That thought always made him uneasy.

"Jack, are you alright?" Ianto asked lowly.

Jack smiled. "Not even remotely," he said, "But what's new? C'mon, let's get this artefact and get the hell out of here. This place is giving me the creeps."

There was a single door at the other end of the long room. Guess where they were going? It seemed an infernal age before they reached it, but they did.

Ianto eyed the door's security. "A keypad, again?" he muttered. "How very unoriginal."

Jack flipped open his wristband and hacked into it. "Well, what do you know, Fibonacci's sequence again. Beginning to see a pattern here?"

"Ha, ha," Ianto said, as the door popped open. "Very funny."

"I do try," Jack drawled, with a quick grin.

**

* * *

**

Avon looked at the object on the plinth. It was a silver cube, about twenty centimetres in diameter. There didn't seem to be any discernible cracks or obvious indentations, but Avon's eyes narrowed. That it was an artificial object wasn't in doubt, whether it was a working piece of technology was another matter. As far as he could discern, it looked just about as useful as an antique paper weight. He passed his scanner over the object.

"No energy readings," he said. "But that doesn't prove anything…" He pulled on his gloves. "Open the case, will you? I don't want this object in my hands longer than is required."

"Aren't you being overly paranoid?" Vila enquired. "Even for you?"

Avon gave him a look. "We're in a high security vault, in the middle of an armed facility and an electronic security system that's programmed to fry all intruders. The words _handle with care _come to mind."

"Well, they didn't come to _my_ mind," Vila said, with a small pout.

"Vila, the quantity of words that haven't entered your head would fill an unabridged dictionary." Avon smiled humourlessly and Vila pulled a face at him and opened the case. Slowly, Avon reached for the cube and picked it up, letting out a held breath as the object remained inactive. "Not sensitive to motion, either," he said. "I was wary of that."

"You're wary of everything, Avon," Blake said. "It's your defining trait."

"And I thought you admired me for my joie de vivre," Avon drawled. "Now, hold the case steady—"

**

* * *

**

It had been too easy, Jack had known that, and yet he had done it anyway. He was Torchwood, he took the risks everybody else was too sane to consider. That understanding still hadn't prepared himself for the excruciating pain that ran through him when he picked up the artefact from its bare, plain plinth.

It was as if his entire mind was ripped open and pulled apart, piece by scattered piece. "Ianto," he cried out, but the name never left his lips. Jack collapsed, felt his heart pound painfully in his chest. He could not die, he was immortal; a moment of hope, maybe he was wrong, and then the shame, that he'd give in so easily.

He collapsed, and felt the hard cold floor hit him.

**

* * *

**

The pain didn't seem to end. His entire body seemed to be caught in some sort of seizure.

"_Jack, Jack hold on, we're nearly there…_"

Jack, who the hell was Jack? But Avon couldn't make the words come. He felt his stomach heave. The ground seemed to move under him, and then he realised that _that_ part was actually real. He was in some sort of ground vehicle. Damn it, why hadn't they beamed him up to the Liberator yet? Was this some sort of double cross, what had gone wrong? He opened his eyes, and found a young man looking down on him, worry etched into his face.

"Jack," he said, with a beatific smile. "You're awake." And then the idiot boy kissed him. As kidnappings go, he'd had worse ones, but he always liked to get a name first.

Eventually, he came up for air, and Avon tried to sit up. Everything felt wrong, his body didn't move as it should. What had that damned artefact done to him?

"Jack?" the boy said anxiously. "Are you okay? Say something!"

Avon cleared his throat, and frowned. Was there something wrong with his vocal chords? His voice sounded a bit off. "I can quite honestly say… that I find myself quite speechless," he eventually said, his hand reaching for his throat. Curious, his head felt like it had been pounded against a Federation prison wall, but he couldn't distinguish anything discernibly wrong with voice – other than the fact it wasn't his, of course.

The vehicle suddenly screeched to a halt, and Avon tensed as the driver , a young woman, suddenly glared back at him. The boy pulled a gun and Avon automatically reached for his. It wasn't there, surprise, surprise.

"Who the hell are you!" the kid demanded.

Avon tried to glare at him, but that only succeeded in giving him double vision. "Who do you think I am?" he prevaricated.

"I _thought_ you were Jack Harkness."

"But you obviously don't think that anymore," Avon drawled sarcastically. "I wonder what gave the game away?"

"Well for one, Jack doesn't have a British accent," he said.

"That's it?" Avon asked. "That is the only thing that seems a bit off for you with this scenario? Who are you and why did you kidnap me? If this is another one of Servelan's rather pathetic cat and mouse games, I refuse to play."

"Kidnap you? What are you talking about? If anybody here did any kidnapping, it's you!"

"And how do you figure that?" Avon snapped, and promptly winced as his head throbbed. He really wished this headache would go away.

"Oh hell," the boy said suddenly, "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"That you're in Jack's body."

"What are you talking about – and who is Jack?" He looked down and eyed his hands, and the length of his body. "Ah, let me guess," he said slowly, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "This is Jack." He lifted his hand and stared at it as he sat up. He ignored the boy's wavering gun, and tried to focus on the view outside. "Where am I," he asked shortly.

"Cardiff," the boy said quietly.

Avon frowned. If he remembered correctly, there was a planet in sector five called Cardiff, but it had an old sun. This sun seemed young, like the one on Earth, but…" The artefact flashed into his mind and a thought occurred to him. He looked back at the boy; at his clothing and his weapon. His mouth went dry. "What year is this?" he asked.

The boy's eyes rounded. "2009," he said, before adding, "How far off are you?"

Avon began to laugh. "Does it matter?" he asked. "It might as well be forever."

The boy smiled briefly. "I wouldn't be too sure about that," he said. "I'm Ianto, by the way, and this is Gwen – and you are?"

"You may call me Avon," he said flatly. "Tell me what you know."

**

* * *

**

Captain Jack Harkness was not having one of his best days. Being felled by an alien artefact was one thing - practically a daily occurrence, in fact - but waking up with a circle of suspicious faces glaring down at him brought back some rather unpleasant memories.

"Hi," he said, and then frowned. "And that came out wrong."

"He is not Avon," one of them said. "He is someone totally different."

"Are you sure, Cally," another one asked, scowling down at him. "He could just be confused."

"_He _has a name," Jack drawled. "Captain Jack Harkness, at your service."

"You _see_!" the girl called Cally said, triumphantly. "Obviously this person has somehow usurped Avon's mind!"

"Hey, what this about usurping? There's no usurping going on around here!" Jack tried to sit up but it was not an option. Even if his head didn't feel like the ground had just opened up and swallowed him, there was the small matter of the straps. "Hey, Guys, is this really necessary?" he cajoled. A thought occurred to him as he looked down at his restrained hands and legs. "And what the hell have you done to my body?"

"Is it just me, or does he sound as clueless as we do," said another of the group wryly.

"Do you have a better idea, Vila?" the curly haired one said.

"Hey, don't mind me, I'm just strapped here to the table," Jack objected. "But if you're going to hold me in bondage, the least you can do is tell me is, who you are and where am I?"

The curly haired one frowned down at him and crossed his arms. He was quite cute, in a burly sort of way. "I am Roj Blake," he said. "And _this_ is the Liberator."

Jack stared at him. "Roj Blake?" he said aloud, his mind whirling with the news. Roj Blake, _the_ Roj Blake, a page from his old school text books. "I'm in deep trouble, aren't I?" he eventually asked.

Blake smiled grimly in answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Liberator: Third Century of the Second Calendar**

No matter how much he tried, Jack couldn't shake the feeling he was in one of those holo-projected field trips his tutors had been so fond of, during his first year of the Academy. He could see it now, old Winters droning on about temporal ethics, as pseudo historical characters pranced around in the staged holographic story.

"_Imagine you find yourself in the precarious situation of influencing one of the major nexuses of human history. What would you do?_"

Not that it could happen, of course. The Vortex Manipulators, given to all Time Agents upon graduating, were all devised with certain inbuilt precautions; like not being able to access certain pivotal years or people in history.

People like Roj Blake, for instance.

If Jack were honest with himself, he was feeling a bit star struck.

"So, what do we do?" he asked aloud. "Obviously I can't just stay here. The cube device must have opened up some rift and facilitated a swap of consciousnesses… oh, stop looking at me like that, I know it sounds crazy. Just work with me. I've dealt with this sort of thing before."

"Oh, you have, have you?" Blake said shortly. "And how would a human, from the twenty first century of the old calender, know about such things? From the little I know about your time period, humanity had barely made it to the moon."

"Then I'm guessing your history books are missing a few chapters," Jack lied. He was from the twenty first century, that was his story and he was sticking to it. If he revealed he was really from their future, everything could go to hell in a hand basket.

Vila snorted a laugh. "I'll say this for him, he's got a good sense of timing."

"This is not funny, Vila," said Jenna, the pilot.

"Oh, come on, Jenna, even _you_ have to admit that this is rather amusing," Vila said. "I mean, look at him. It's Avon, right up the moment he opens his mouth, and then this smooth talker suddenly appears….personally, I think it's an improvement."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You _would_."

Jack decided to change the subject. "Listen, I hate to be a pain, but I'd like to know who went back in time to my body—" His stopped suddenly, as the name suddenly clicked.

Avon.

As in _Kerr_ Avon.

The man who broke academic consensus when it came to deciding which side of Federation history he really was on; the good guy or the bad guy, nobody really knew. Jack remembered that the only thing the lecturers back in the Academy could really agree on, was the fact that he was a real piece of work.

One of the most devious minds in human history was now wandering around in his body in the twentt first century. Sparks would fly, governments could very well topple. Damn it, he really hoped Ianto didn't piss him off…oh, who was kidding, he needed to get back home fast!

Jack tried to not let the panic show on his face.

Cally eyed him coolly. "He's holding something back," she informed Blake.

"Is he now?" Blake said, "Why am I not surprised?" He turned and called out to the computer screen, "Zen, how many hours until we reach our destination?"

"Seventeen hours, and twenty three minutes," the computer said, and Blake nodded. "Inform me when we're about to make orbit." He turned to Jenna and Cally. "My contact said that Doctor Retsam was one of the main researchers when they did the initial tests on the cube. If anyone has any answers it's him."

"I still think this is a stupid idea," Vila said. "Without Avon, we might as well stroll in there and wave a red flag in their face."

Blake gave him a studied look. "Are you saying you can't break into the facility?" he asked.

Vila pulled a face. "I'm saying that I can't do as neatly as Avon would."

"Well, Avon isn't at home, is he?" Blake said, as he stared at Jack.

Jack sighed, something told him that a bright smile wasn't going to get him anywhere. It could be worse, he told himself. He could be still strapped to the bed in their med bay. He looked up, and caught Blake glowering at him. Huh, maybe that wasn't that much of an improvement, after all.

* * *

**Cardiff: 2009  
**

Their…base... was a rough concoction of near stone aged technology, and items of obvious alien origin. Avon looked around disdainfully. "And you seriously think that you can help _me_?" he asked, turning on them.

The girl called Gwen shifted aggressively on her feet. "Let's put this way," she said. "There isn't anybody else queuing up to help you."

He pulled a face. "A fair point, I suppose." He eyed the cavernous room, and the empty levels above. "Where are the rest of your compatriots?"

She looked away. "We're it," she said quietly.

Avon decided not to push, he recognised that look on her face. "Well, the first thing we'll need to do is a full phasic analysis of the artefact," he said briskly.

"A what?" Gwen asked, before turning to Ianto.

"Never heard of it," Ianto said flatly. "And if I haven't heard of it, we don't have it in our arsenal."

Avon looked around and, for the first time since he'd awoken, gave them a genuine smile. "I don't think that will be a problem," he said. "I presume this mausoleum had some lab space?"

"Right, you're from the future," Ianto said, "I must remember that…actually, there might be a few artefacts we've found over the last few years, that you can help me with."

Avon raised an eyebrow. "What happened to that lecture you gave me in the vehicle, the one about preserving the space time continuum for the good of humanity." Avon smiled once more, this time with all the warmth of an artic expanse. "Let me guess, you can always think of an exception."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Fine, forget I said anything," he said.

"Oh, don't worry, I will," Avon said. "Now, if you could just show me—" he stopped, dead in his tracks, as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a glass partition. "Good grief, l look like one of those characters from those entertainments they concoct for the grade threes..."

"Hey, that's my friend's body you're walking about in," Gwen protested. "And I can't believe I just said that."

That makes two of us," Avon said crisply. "The artefact, let me see it. The sooner we're all back in our respective places, the better."

"Well, you can always try clicking your heels three times," Ianto suggested dryly. "It's the tried and approved method."

Avon gave him a withering look. "I'm sure, given the correct cultural background, I would find that comment both witty and erudite but, as you can plainly see, I fail to garner any amusement from it."

"Oh, you're going to be a right barrel of laughs, aren't you?" Gwen sighed.

Is that a question or an observation," Avon asked absently, as he looked down at his clothing. What in the name of the Federation's charter was he wearing?

"Oh, I'm leaning towards the latter," Gwen said.

Avon looked up at her. "Bright girl, now let's get to work."

"Right this way," she said crisply, "Tosh's old lab—" She paused, and Avon mentally filed the name away. There was a history here, a recent one; and it may be useful to know about it if he was stuck here longer than he intended. "There's a tech lab this way," she eventually said, and he nodded silently before following her up the iron steps.

* * *

""Listen, guys, I want be back in my original body as much as you do," Jack said, from his designated spot on the Liberator's couch. "Trust me, this new form is a real downgrade for me."

"What, your original body have super powers, or something," Vila said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"I don't think he's talking about the body's abilities, so much as its aesthetic attributes," Cally said, her lips twitching. Once she'd decided that Jack was not a threat, she displayed quite a sly sense of humour. Jack supposed that that was a distinct advantage for surviving this crew, especially if you were a telepath.

Vila's eyebrow's shot up. "Oh, well, so sorry you don't find your body pretty enough for your exacting standards."

Jenna began to snigger at her console. "I don't believe this is happening, she said, "I mean, look at the way he's sitting on the couch. He's acting like one of those entertainment companions on Space City."

"Huh, he wishes," Vila said, his eyes growing distant. "Pity we burned that bridge, I could do with a little rest and relaxation myself."

Cally gave him a cool look. "Yes, nothing like a holiday snuggling up to the Terra Nostra to make one's worries drift away."

Vila pouted "You make it sound so sleazy."

"Not a difficult chore," Cally said. "Considering how they make their income."

Jack went through in his mind what he knew about this time period. The Terra Nostra were an organised crime cabal, even more psychotic that the Mafiosi families of the Twentieth Century. From the way Cally and Vila were talking about them, there was a story there, and not one covered by history lessons at the Academy.

Typical, the Academy always whitewashed the truth when they could get away with it.

"Maybe I can help," he said.

"Help with what?" Jenna asked.

Jack smiled, but quickly pulled a straight face as Jenna stiffened. He guessed Avon didn't smile a lot. "Well, I'm handy around the house…or the great big alien ship, whatever comes first."

Cally looked at him distrustfully. "Oh yes?" she asked. "And how is that? Something you're not telling us?"

Jack gave her a level look. "You already know the answer to that," he said. "Just like you know that I'm telling you the truth when I say I'm not the bad guy here."

"I don't _know _anything," she said. "It would make life a lot easier if I did."

"But you can make a good guess," Jack countered.

"I thought you couldn't read the mind of someone who wasn't telepathic, Cally," Vila said suspiciously.

"I can't," she mused, looking at him, and Jack felt a moment of misgiving. Obviously, she didn't have much experience meeting others with empathic ability. Not that he was anywhere near a full blown telepath, but he had enough ability for her to pick up on.

"Listen," he said. "There's always going to be more to this story than I'm saying, but you can see my dilemma. We're talking time travel here and, we both have to be careful. You've heard of the grandfather paradox?"

"A theory first proposed by the ancient Earth author, René Barjavel," Blake said, as he stepped out of the side corridor and joined them on the deck. "A man travels back in time and kills his grandfather, therefore negating his own conception, this would mean that he could not have traveled back in time, and the grandfather would have lived after all; a logical paradox." He folded his arms. "Of course, that would be only an issue if you were from our future and not our past."

Jack grinned widely. "Trust, me, Blake, I was exactly when and where I said I was when this happened."

"And that is an ambiguous answer if ever I heard one," Jenna said.

"I'm inclined to agree with Jenna," Vila said. "He's definitely keeping something from us."

"But in the end, it doesn't matter," Cally said. "He's in Avon's body, remember? We can't exactly get rid of him."

"Hmm," Blake said, noncommittally

* * *

Avon was half way through reconfiguring an emitter array when the facility's alarm went off. He cursed under his breath, as the clumsy metallic screwdriver slipped in his hand. Who ever heard of making a phasic scanner manually? He must be crazy.

He tapped his ear mic. "Would somebody please tell me what the hell is going on down there?" he asked.

"_No need to worry,_" Gwen's voice answered sharply. "_We've got it under control_."

Avon frowned at the edge in her voice. "Is it my imagination, or do you sound less than confident about that?"

"_Listen, Avon, or whatever your name is, just sit tight and finish making your scanner thing, alright? We'll take care of this_." The sound of an energy pulse weapon sounded in the background, and Avon scowled with irritation.

"I find myself underwhelmed with a sense of reassurance," he said. "How many are they?"

He could hear Gwen breathing over the link, she didn't sound calm. "_Seven,_" she said eventually.

"Human?" he asked, as he eyed the emitter array on the table and began to readjust the controls. It seemed a reasonable question, considering their stockpile of alien technology.

"_Humanoid_," she said, and Avon wasn't sure, but he though the heard the crackle of an electrical fire. He let out a sigh. This was becoming more tedious than the Liberator.

"I have a plan," he said reluctantly.

"_You do_?" Ianto's voice suddenly appeared on the line, and Avon rolled his eyes. It was a wonder these two were still alive.

"Hold them off as long as you can," he said. "I'll be with you in a moment. Be ready to cover your eyes when I give the word."

"_You'll need to be fast_," Gwen warned.

"I'm working as fast as I can," he bit out, as he rapidly changed the energy parameters of the device. It was always easier to fashion a weapon, rather than a tool. "Just keep them from my door, and I'll do the rest."

He finished the last touches to the grenade and picked it up. It was ungainly, but it would work. He cautiously approached the lab door and looked out over the ramp outside. The energy fire was still on the lowest floor. Gwen and Ianto were keeping them pinned down from the first balcony level. He tapped his mic. "Cover your eyes," he said, before he dropped the grenade and threw himself back into the lab.

A bright flash glowed though his closed eyelids, and then darkness. Slowly, he got to his feet, and tapped his mic again. "They should be down," he said.

"_That's one way of putting it,_" Gwen said. "_What the hell did you do to them?_"

"I induced a seizure in their nervous system," Avon said crisply, as he descended the steps. "As you can see, it's quite effective. I'd advise you to terminate them before they recovered, but I doubt that such a reasoned course of action, would appeal to you."

"You doubt correctly," Gwen said sharply, as he joined her on the balcony level and looked around. The damage seemed surprisingly minimal. "How long before they come to?" she asked.

"Twenty min—" He paused, as he looked down at the alien creature at her feet; it had only vestigial ears and cranial ridges. This was his first true interaction with an alien species. Not an auspicious start. "Twenty minutes, local time" he said. "For humans, at least, I'm not so sure about this fellow here."

Ianto joined them from the lower level. "Let's get them into the cells, I've stripped them all of their portable transmat devices."

"Transmat?" Avon echoed speculatively. "That is very sophisticated technology… and rare."

Ianto ignored him. "One of them said something, before he lost consciousness," he said to Gwen.

"Spit it out" she said, as she cleared the chamber of her gun.

Ianto took a deep breath. "He said the Master wanted his property back."

The silence drew on, and Avon folded his arms. "Would somebody _please_ tell me what is going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?" he asked.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Liberator: Third Century of the Second Calendar**

Jack had leaned back in the couch, and watched Blake prowl in front of the computer screen, seething with nervous energy. He remembered the stories his father used to tell him, when he and Grey were young. One now stood out in his memory, the tale of when Blake inadvertently turned aside a Rutan invasion, by preventing them from infecting humanity with a highly infectious pathogen.

That alone put him on the _do not touch_ list.

"Status, Zen?" Blake asked.

"Orbit achieved, we've just attained transmat range."

"Good," he said. "Jenna, any trouble showing on the sensors?"

"It seems all clear," she said, but she sounded dubious.

"Then, Vila, you're with me. Jenna and Cally, you will monitor the situation from here. If anything goes wrong, I want us to be the first to know."

"And me?" Jack drawled, catching his attention.

Blake gave him a long look. "If you don't find the couch comfortable, I'm sure we can find you a nice quiet cell for you to occupy."

"Oh, you wound me, truly you do," Jack drawled. " But it still doesn't change the fact you're going to need me down there. Without Avon here, I'm the nearest thing you've got to a science geek on board."

"Geek?" Cally asked, puzzled.

"An ancient Earth word, not in common usage anymore," Blake said. "It means he has a…strong scientific background." Was it Jack's imagination or was the there the hint of the smallest smile on Blake's face.

"More importantly, it means that I'm the only one here who could actually understand the information this guy is going to give us," he said aloud. "That might come in handy, don't you think?"

"Us?" Blake repeated.

Jack grinned. "It has a certain ring to it, doesn't it?" he said. "And hey, maybe I'll grow on you!"

"Yeah, like a fungus," Vila muttered, but he didn't disagree with what Jack had said.

Blake rolled his eyes. "One wrong move and I'll have you teleported back on board before you can blink an eye," he warned Jack, as he took a weapon from its niche in the wall.

"I don't suppose I could have one of those too?" Jack asked hopefully.

Vila sniggered. "Good one."

Jack sighed as he got to his feet. "I'll take that as a no, then."

"We're beaming down just outside the perimeter of the base," Blake told him, ignoring his complaint.

"Why don't we just beam inside it?" Jack asked.

Vila pulled a face. "Good question."

Blake sighed. "Because we don't have an accurate map of the facility, and I'd rather not have my molecules reassembled inside a reinforced concrete wall," he said. "Don't worry, Vila, teleporting out won't be problem."

"Why is it that I always feel nervous when you tell me not to be worried?" Vila asked.

"And if Avon was here, I'm sure he would have a few choice words to add at this moment." Jenna said, with a rueful smile.

* * *

**Cardiff : 2009**

Avon looked at Ianto and Gwen, disbelief plain on his face. "So, what you're trying to tell me is that this Master created a paradox device which reordered time and the universe and, after a year of global dominion and terror, he was defeated by…what was that again? Please be specific, I find my sense of belief is tenuous at best."

"That's the part we're still a bit hazy about, actually," Ianto said reluctantly.

"Because we don't remember it, you see," Gwen piped up. "When the Paradox Machine was destroyed, we all reverted back to the moment it was turned on."

"But Jack told us that the Doctor stopped him by using mankind's faith in him," Ianto said. "Apparently, there was…floating involved…" Ianto's voice petered off under the force of Avon glare.

"I have one question," he said flatly. "Have either of you been submitted to any form of psychological evaluation recently?"

"Hello? _Future_ boy?" Gwen pronounced, waving a hand at him. "You're one to talk!"

"Yes, and I can already foresee this is going to be a long day," Avon said, with a quick, deadly smile. "Very well, let's just say I believe this tale of yours. What happened next, exactly?"

"He was shot though the chest by his wife," Ianto said.

"Ah, marital difficulties too," Avon said dryly. "Obviously, this Master leads an eventful life—"

"Led, past tense," Ianto said. "He's dead."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you mention earlier that his species have the ability to regenerate if they're mortally wounded?" Avon asked.

"Apparently, they can refuse to undergothe process," Gwen said. "And that's what the Master did. He said he preferred to die, rather than be the Doctor's prisoner."

"I see." Avon gave them a long look. "And neither of you found this even _remotely _suspicious?" he asked.

"There were witnesses," Ianto said, with a frown.

"Impeccable witnesses," Gwen added.

Avon sighed. "Did it not occur to you that the Master is a megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur? Someone like that doesn't just commit suicide. They literally can't imagine a universe without them in it."

Gwen muttered something under her breath that that sounded suspiciously like, _it takes one to know one_, and Avon graced her with the full heat of his glare as Ianto began to cough uncomfortably.

"I know what you're trying to say," Ianto said, catching his attention. "But the body was most definitely dead. It was burned to ash."

"But I think you forget that this Master wasn't human," Avon said. "A species like the one you've described to me - one which can literally regenerate their body at a drop of a hat - their capabilities might be beyond even what we can _conceive_."

"But if there was another Time Lord out there, the Doctor would sense him," Ianto said. "Jack says he can do that."

"Can we be sure? After all, you yourself said that the Master had been masquerading as a human for decades before the Doctor found him. He could be doing the exact same thing right now."

"But that would mean voluntarily giving up his personality again," Ianto countered, "And, as you said, he's too much of a megalomaniac to do that."

"And if he found a way around it?" Avon asked; he looked down at the cube, lying on the lab table.

Ianto's eyes followed him. "Firstly, may I say that _that_ is a truly terrifying thought," he said, "But, luckily for us, it's also highly unlikely one; his body was checked and double checked before it was burned, and all alien artefacts were confiscated. The cube wasn't on this person."

"And what was?" Avon asked.

"Nothing much, to be honest," Ianto admitted. "UNIT had already confiscated his Laser Screwdriver, and all that was left were a few minor gadgets. Eventually, they just handed the body over to the Doctor for burial."

"Just the body?" Avon asked quietly.

"Well, his clothes as well, of course, and also I think his wedding and signet ring—" Ianto stopped suddenly. "The signet ring," he repeated. "I wonder…"

"We're all agog, I'm sure," Avon said dryly.

Ianto igonred him as he mused aloud. "There were some rather strange markings on it, according the file photos, but there weren't any energy readings, or other indications of tech, so it was left with the body." he paused. "The thing is, Gallifreyan technology is quite advanced, and they did create some impressive tech, including personality and genetic storage devices."

"Like those pocket watches Martha told us about," Gwen said.

"And if there was a body waiting for him on the other end…" Ianto nodded. "Nobody would notice the transfer, because it wouldn't include a genetic rewrite of his original DNA… that was the painful part. "

Gwen slumped into a seat. "You realise what you're saying, don't you. You're saying the Master is still alive."

"And living in the future," Ianto said.

"Oh dear, Martha is not going to be happy," Gwen said softly.

"And who in Hades is Martha?" Avon interrupted impatiently.

"She's was on the Valiant when time reverted," Ianto said quietly.

"And you telling me this because?" Avon prompted.

"Because it means she was in the eye of the storm," Ianto said. "And she remembers..._everything_."

"At last, a piece of information that might be of some value," Avon said. "Is she nearby?"

Gwen shook her head. "She's in New York - but we can get her on video uplink."

"How about you do that, then," Avon said, "While I try to salvage the emitter."

"Yes, sir!" Ianto drawled sarcastically. "And would you like sugar in your tea?"

Avon blinked. "There's still tea in this century?"

* * *

Jack ducked his head on instinct as they materialised on the surface. The planet's sun had just sunk below the horizon, and the only light they had came from the base, ahead of them on the hill.

Vila blew into his hands and rubbed them together. "I thought you said it'd be _warm_," he complained as they neared the outer door.

"We won't be out here for long if you get a move on," Blake pointed out.

Vila muttered under his breath but scrabbled upward, through the low scrub.

"You still haven't told me what you're hoping to find here?" Jack asked Blake, under his breath, as they followed him.

"Answers," Blake said briefly. "I'm hoping he'll have some insight into the device and give us a lead as to how to reverse the process."

Jack gave him a rueful look. "That's highly unlikely, you know," he said. "Our best bet is to wait until my team comes up with answers."

"Your team in the twenty first century," he drawled. "Why am I not exactly filled with confidence?"

"Hey, trust me, they may be from the past, but they have a better grasp on how alien tech works than you do."

"And how is that?"

Jack smirked. "Well, for one thing, they've got some excellent contacts."

Blake looked at him grimly. "I have no reason to trust you."

"Hey, the feeling's mutual," Jack lied as they reached the outer door of the bunker.

"Is it?" Blake countered. "Because I've got the funny feeling that you know something I don't and—"

"Ah, trust issues, if I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine Avon is still with us," Vila interrupted, with a sarcastic bite in his voice. "Could you two just pipe down for a moment, hacking into a secure government facility is delicate work."

Jack leaned against the wall, and watched Vila work, as Blake stared out into the hinterland.

"_Vila_,"" Blake said, worriedly, as the minutes dragged on.

"Hang on, hang on, I _told _you this would move a lot slower without Avon helping," he muttered. "Do you realise how difficult it is to hack a Federation lock algorithm—" The door hissed open, and Vila stepped smartly back. "You first, oh glorious leader," he said, with an exaggerated bow.

Blake rolled his eyes, and stepped forward. "Vila, you bring up the rear."

"I guess that makes me piggy in the middle," Jack said, before grinning, "Ah, the possibilities…" The door hissed closed behind Vila, and Jack found himself in a deserted outer corridor. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. "Uh, guys, I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Ah, Jack, always so astute," the corridor's COM system boomed. "It's been too long."

Jack's eyes widened. The tenor was different, higher, lighter, but he'd recognise the venom in his voice anywhere. "Blake, we've got to get out of here," he said urgently. "Get Cally to beam us out here – now!"

A glare of light suddenly filled the corridor, and she stood in front of them, clad in bright scarlet, with two dozen androids at her back. They looked nothing like the holo-images from his history syllabus, and Jack felt something inside him twist as he looked at the markings on their headpieces. Not again.

"Servelan," Blake said grimly.

"No, actually, try again" she said. "Servalan isn't at home at the moment. I'm afraid she's hanging out in a rather gauche looking ring…but I think your friend here has already figured that out. Haven't you, Jack?"

"How did you know that we'd be here?" Jack asked.

"You didn't really think that a vortex arch wouldn't have a tracer on it?" she said, before tutting, "Oh dear, how remiss of you."

"What have you done to Doctor Retsam?" Blake asked grimly

Servelan sighed dramatically. "Oh, my darling Blake, haven't you realised it yet? There is no Doctor Retsam; there never was. There is only me."

"It's an acronym, Blake," Jack said. "Retsam is, in actual fact, the Master."

"So astute," the Master smiled widely. "No wonder the Doctor is so fond of you - do you like the new body, by the way? It's very different, isn't it?"

"That's one way of putting it," Jack said coldly.

* * *

"I don't believe this is happening," Martha said flatly, through the vid screen. "Are you certain?"

"If you're looking for absolutes, then no, nothing is certain," Avon said crisply, "But it's still very probable."

"He's got to be stopped." Martha said coldly. "We need to find that ring at all costs. Send me the data."

"Sending," Ianto said, as he tapped at his keyboard.

"Right, I'll be on the next flight," Martha said, "Expect me in seven hours – oh, and I'll make a certain phone call, yeah? At the very least, I'll find out when was the last time he saw it." The screen went blank, and Avon raised an eyebrow.

"He?" he echoed.

"The Doctor," Ianto said.

"Ah," Avon said, "Well, pardon me for being sceptical as to the success of that endeavour, but I think we should perhaps come up with a plan of our own."

Gwen folded her arms. "And why should we be listening to you?" she asked sharply.

"Because, my dear Gwen, while you may not like me, you cannot deny that our goals dovetail somewhat. I want to get home, and you want your friend back," Avon said. "Can you say the same for this Martha, and her friend the Doctor? Or do you think their priorities might centre a bit more around tracking down the Master?"

"It's one and the same!" Gwen said hotly. "Isn't that right, Ianto?"

"Actually, we can't be so sure about that," Ianto muttered. "I think Martha would be as eager to find Jack as we are…but the Doctor? That might be a bit more complicated."

"What are you saying?" Gwen asked, turning on Ianto.

"I'm saying that the Doctor doesn't see straight when it comes to the Master, and that it never hurts to have a backup plan, even if we never need to use it."

"And that means we need to know two things," Avon interjected. "We need to know how the cube works, and where the Master's minion's base is."

Ianto nodded slowly, and then pulled a face. "I've just realised something," he muttered.

"What?" Gwen asked.

"That there is only one place on Earth where we could get our hands on the kind of intelligence we need to track down the Master's minions – and that's the Black Archives."

"The what?" Gwen asked.

"For once, you've taken the words right out of my mouth," Avon muttered dryly. "Let's hope it doesn't become a frequent occurrence."


	4. Chapter 4

**Secret location, somewhere near London : 2009**

They had pulled over to the side of the road, and Avon was beginning to feel decidedly exposed as he studied his surroundings. There wasn't a sign of civilisation in any direction, and he knew that this century's satellite surveillance technology was barely worth the name.

It made him feel uneasy.

"Your _friend _is late," he said, shortly, as he straightened.

"Give her a chance," Gwen told him, as she took another fried vegetable chunk out of the paper bag she was holding. Avon wrinkled his nose as she ate it. She seemed to be enjoying her meal, but he was actually beginning to feel nostalgic for the tasteless food supplements on the Liberator.

"Are you sure you don't want a chip?" she asked, mistaking his attention for interest.

"No, thank you," he said flatly.

"You haven't eaten since we've left Wales," Ianto pointed out.

"I'm sure they're very appetising," Avon said. "But I think I'll abstain, for the moment. I seem to remember heart surgery was rather a messy business during this time period."

"Ah, sarcasm," Gwen snorted. "Didn't see _that_ coming!"

Ianto's phone began to ring, and Avon glared at him impatiently as he answered it. "Yeah, we're here…where are you?" There was a distant rev of an engine, and Avon raised an eyebrow as a vehicle appeared over the top of hill.

"Forget I asked,"" Ianto said, before clicking the phone closed.

"Lets hope your Martha Jones is as trustworthy as you say, I have little liking for being marooned in this century indefinitely," Avon said.

"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," Ianto drawled, as the jeep pulled up beside their SUV, and a petite young woman jumped out. He recognised her from the video feed at the hub.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," she said, once she was within earshot. "They'll court-martial me for sure."

"Sorry, hun, we didn't have time to go through the proper channels and, with the Master involved and the Doctor not answering his phone, we need to act fast," Gwen said hurriedly.

A frown crossed Martha's face. "He always answers his phone," she said quietly. "Something's wrong."

"You think he's in trouble?" Gwen asked.

Martha gave her a wry smile. "The Doctor is always in trouble," she said.

"Reminds me of someone I know," Avon said.

She gave him a cool look "And you're Kerr Avon, man from the future, running around in Jack's body," she said.

"Funny, you don't seem in any way fazed by that," he said.

"I've seen stranger things," she said, as she opened her boot and pulled out a carry bag. "We need to move fast. The IDs will be good for a few hours, but no longer." She opened the bag, and revealed a pile of uniforms. "Put these on."

Ianto smirked as picked up one of the red caps. "I always wanted one of these," he said

Gwen rolled her eyes. "So Jack told us…. repeatedly," she said.

* * *

**An Unnamed Planet: Third Century of the Second Calendar.**

Jack's new cell was a little less steam punk than the last cell the Master had held him in, but the chains were still unbreakable and firmly attached, and the food was still awful.

One thing _had_ changed, however. The Master now hit like a girl.

It hurt a lot more.

"Tell me what the Doctor's plan is," the Master hissed, crouching over him, and giving him a disturbingly attractive view of her breasts.

"I told you, the Doctor doesn't even know you're still alive," Jack muttered, through his swollen mouth.

"Oh Jack, Jack, Jack, why don't I believe you?" the Master said.

"You have a cynical nature?"

As surreal moments go, even Jack had to admit this made it into his top ten. The Master smirking down at him, sporting a skimpy black leather feathered concoction, that wouldn't seem out of place on a stage, in a Gothic rendition of the Follies Begiere. This was even a little too camp for _his _tastes - and that was saying something.

"Is this where you break into song and tell me how a Tardis is a Time Lady's best friend?" he asked aloud, wondering if he was suffering from a concussion, as he usually came up with a better comeback.

The Master was evidently thinking the same thing. 'Jack, Jack, Jack, is that really the best you can do?" she drawled, 'We'll definitely have to change that.' She pulled a slender metal cylinder from her cleavage, and Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he unscrewed it. The Master seemed to be having a lot of fun with his new persona as a femme fatale. It would be funny if it wasn't so terrifying.

A metallic, artificial arachnid crawling out of the tube.

"Do you like my new friend?" the Master asked, in that deceptively friendly tone she used  
when she had something particularly nasty in mind. Jack watched as the tiny AI extended its eight legs and skittered down the side of the tube, only pausing when it reached the back of the Master's hand.

"I'll admit, I'm not exactly overcome with warm and fuzzy feelings," Jack drawled, trying not to show the fear in his voice. "Where are the others?"

"They've been made…useful," the Master purred, not taking her eyes away from the glint of the artificial spider's legs are it crept up to the tip of her forefinger.

"And what are you going to do with that?" he asked reluctantly.

The Master glanced up, and smirked evilly. "Do you want to hear a little Gallifreyan history?" she asked softly. "The real stuff, not the censored drip the Doctor has fed you."

"Yeah, because you're Mister Truth and Honesty," Jack drawled.

The Master's smile widened. "Once upon a time, before the age of Rassilon, the Time Lords were a powerful and cruel race, who killed for power and _sport_. During that time, they created many devices designed to hurt and humiliate and kill. We were very, very good at it."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Does this speech have a point?" he asked.

"Oh, I always have a point," the Master said. "And this time, my point is the Chameleon Arch."

"What's that got to do anything?" Jack asked softly.

The Master smiled widely. "Everything." Her finger flicked, and the arachnid fell onto his shoulder. Jack twisted in his restraints, but he couldn't shake the little machine's slow and inexorable climb up his neck.

"What's it going to do?" Jack asked hoarsely as the artificial arachnid homed in on his ear.

"It's going to steal your memories," the Master said. "And hack you genome sequence, just like the Chameleon Arch was originally designed to do...isn't it pretty?"

* * *

**The Black Archives: 2009**

It looked like a very well kept warehouse, hidden in the middle of nowhere; its security was laughable. The hairs at the back of Avon's neck rose. "I don't like this," he said softly, as they pulled in front of the building's entrance. "It's too quiet."

Martha frowned. "He's right," she admitted. "Someone should have come out to meet us by now."

Gwen leaned forward in her chair. "You reckon it was the IDs?" she asked.

Martha shook her head thoughtfully. "No, we'd be surrounded by now, if that were so," she said. "Something else is going on here."

Avon pulled out a gun. "Let's get this over with," he said grimly.

"Hey, where did you get that?" Ianto asked sharply.

"I liberated it from your armoury before we left; any more inane questions?" Avon asked flatly.

"We don't have time for this" Gwen said, as she hopped out of the jeep. Avon sighed as the others followed suit.

"Why is it I always end up with the heroes," he asked rhetorically. "It's never good for my health." He jumped out after them, gun raised, as they pushed though the Archive's main doors.

"Something is definitely up," Martha said, as they eyed the empty corridor. Gwen and Ianto pulled out their guns, and Avon eyed Martha, who remained empty handed. "Where's your weapon?" he asked.

"I'm a Doctor," she said briefly. "I don't use guns."

He threw her a disbelieving look. "What, exactly, are you hoping to do if we encounter resistance? Subdue them with your bedside manner?"

"I'll think of something," she said, with a crooked grin. "I usually do."

"I feel so reassured," he drawled, letting her lead the way…all the easier for her to draw fire. After all, Avon thought, if she insisted on making a martyr of herself, who was he to object?

"I'm picking up something strange…an energy spike," Ianto said, looking at the PDA screen in his hand.

"Direction?" Martha called back.

"Below us," Ianto said, "In the archive proper."

Gwen sighed. "Anyone else thinking that this feels like a set up?"

Avon threw her a dark look. "Is that a joke?"

"Children, children, no fighting in the corridors," Ianto muttered.

"The main elevator is straight ahead, but there is a service elevator at the other end of the building. Whoever it is, they may not know about it."

"Better than nothing I suppose," Ianto said with a grim look. Martha led the way down a side corridor, moving cautiously. Avon eyed the closed doors on either side of them. Not a sound, not a hint of a whisper.

"_Wait_," he hissed lowly, he moved against the wall, and gently prodded a door open a couple of inches. He spotted the body on the floor beyond. It was official, somebody had gotten here before us. Damn it, he hated it when he was right.

"Well, that's torn it," Gwen muttered, over his shoulder.

"We don't have time for this," Ianto said. "Let's go."

They found their second body in the elevator, and Avon watched as Martha checked for a pulse, and them grimly rolled the corpse into the corridor. "Let's go," she said coldly, and Avon found himself re-evaluating her yet again. The doors slid closed and the elevator trundled downward. It was longer trip than he'd expected, and the elevator was old and noisy.

"They're going to hear us coming," Gwen said, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Against the sides," he said, and they silently followed his order as the doors opened.

A solitary woman waited for them, standing between them, and a huge cavernous space, that Avon presumed was the archive.

"Lucy Saxon," Martha breathed.

"Not exactly," the woman drawled lazily, "Although she_ is _nearby." She raised her hand and showed off the signet ring that rested on her forefinger. "The silly woman thought that she had the willpower to overcome me, and force me onto this thing, through the vortex manipulator." She smiled slowly. "She was wrong."

"_Servalan_," Avon bit out.

Servalan blinked, and laughed out loud. "Avon? Is that you?"

"As if you didn't know," he hissed, taking a step forward, gun raised.

Servalan snapped her fingers, and a line of troops stepped out of the shadows.

"They're the same species as the ones who broke into the hub," Ianto said quietly.

"You don't say," Avon said flatly. "What a coincidence – what do you want, Servalan?"

"Why, isn't it obvious?" she asked archly. "I want the same thing as you. I want to go home."

Avon took a moment to digest her words, before he came to a realisation. "The Master has your body," he said.

"So it seems," she agreed.

"Is that bad?" Gwen asked softly.

"Servalan is the Supreme Commander of the Terran Federation. Whole worlds crumble and die at the flick of her signature…yes, I'm guessing it's a very bad thing."

"Oh, Avon, you always know how to say the nicest things."

"Only a psychotic would think that, Servalan."

"And you should know," she countered, with a knowing smirk.

Ianto rolled her eyes. "Why don't you two just get a room, and leave us out of it."

Servalan quirked an eyebrow, and Avon smiled humourlessly. "No thank you, I do have _some_ inkling of self preservation."

"And yet I see an alliance of sorts in our future," she said. "Unless, you've become inordinately fond of this century, and your new…body." Her eyes travelled up and down, and Avon found himself strangely discomfited.

"What do you propose, Servalan?" he asked.

"An exchange of information, what else?" she said. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

**An Unnamed Planet: Third Century of the Second Calendar.**

This was not the first time the Master had tortured Jack. He remembered with crystal clarity, those long days and nights on the Valiant. It was hard to forget the burning intensity in the Master's eyes as he had gouged out his name in his chest with a table knife and watched with greedy eyes as he healed in front of him. And that was only the beginning. After a few months, he got _really_ inventive.

And yet, it seemed that no matter how long Jack lived, there was always something that could surprise him and, as the spider burrowed into his neo-cortex, and tore though his memories, what struck Jack was not the searing pain, but the answers the Master sought.

_Was he hurt? Did he cry? Is he all alone now?_

The pyre burned high in Jack's memories, and the Master gave a long sigh of pleasure.

"_Good. Now tell me what you did with **her.**_"

"Her?" Jack asked, wincing as he heard the crack in his own voice. How long had he been here? How far had that thing dug into his mind.

An image formed in his mind. A slender blonde, fragile and broken, a weapon held in her nerveless fingers. He saw her through the Master's eyes. "_Like Rose,"_he thought.

"_Like Romana,_" the Master added.

"I don't understand…" And Jack didn't. What had the Master's poor plaything got to do with anything?.

And then the Master's thoughts flooded through him, and he understood. She had the ring. She was supposed to follow him, once she'd found out what he'd needed to know.

"_Did he suffer. Is he alone_."

"You're one fucked up individual, did you know that?" Jack said aloud.

"I'm a Time Lord, boy, it kind of comes with the territory. Didn't you realise?" she asked, with a terrible, grim smile. "Shall we begin again?"

* * *


End file.
